


Three Days in April

by Sophia_Bee



Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Barebacking, Casual Sex, Condoms, Erik Has Feelings, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Friends to Lovers, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Miscommunication, PEP/PrEP, Poor Charles, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3293597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles Xavier is holding the envelope with the results of his HIV test from earlier that day, to afraid to look at them, when a handsome stranger named Erik plops a drink down in front of him. Charles finds he can tell a stranger about his woes easier than he can tell his friends and family, and he and Erik embark on a journey of friendship, starting with opening the test results together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Days in April

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to **lapetiteyoyo** for the beta, and for being a really fantastic human being in life whom I enjoy greatly xoxo
> 
> The idea of this fic came from a conversation with a social worker over PEP/PrEP. PEP/PrEP is prophylaxis for HIV that is being used amongst the gay male population, where the spread of HIV has increased within the younger ages. It reduces the transmission rate of HIV by 96%. So I decided to write a story where Charles and Erik face some of the issues around being HIV+ and what that means, especially because it seems like something that hasn't been addressed within a fanfic. 
> 
> In the end it turned out a bit fluffier than I expected.

Charles sits in the booth at the back of the bar, leaning against the plush velvet overstuffed cushions. He glances at his phone. Alex and Armando won’t be there for at least thirty minutes. He's glad for this. He needs some time alone before facing his friends.

It’s their weekly Friday night date at the bar. It almost always follows the same pattern. They order drinks, talk about their work. Alex and Armando drink enough to lapse into one of their disgustingly cute makeout sessions. Charles spends his time cruising for a hot piece of ass to take home. They go their separate ways, and if Charles gets lucky he ends up getting laid. They meet again the following Friday. It’s been their tradition ever since Alex and Charles graduated from the doctoral program at Columbia. Four years ago Armando had joined them. Now it was the three of them every Friday night, crammed into the circular booth that still smells a bit like stale cigarette smoke from those hazy days when smoking in bars was still allowed, sipping whisky and trading stories about their week.

It’s always the same except that today Charles arrives early.

He’s usually the one that’s late, blowing in with one excuse or another: office hours gone too long, a chatty student, the train was delayed. Alex would frown at him and Armando would give him one of his dazzling smiles, and they would tease him that he would probably be late to his own funeral.

Charles winces as he thinks about how they tease him. His own funeral. Maybe that’s not as far off as they think. Maybe….

Charles reaches in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out the envelope. It’s the one he’s been carrying all day long, and now it’s looking a bit worse for wear. It’s plain white, but he’s folded it in half, and at some point today he’d been looking at it when his fingers seemed to spasm on their own accord, as if he subconsciously wanted to fling it away from his body. It had fallen to the ground, landing in a muddy, dirty puddle. Charles had briefly thought about leaving it there. It was anonymous. If someone found it, they could never track it back to him. At the same time, he feels like a coward wanting to walk away. He needs to do this. He knows that. It’s just, what’s in that envelope could change everything.

He shoved the envelope back in his pocket and it had stayed there, then he continued his way across campus, the brisk April wind turning his cheeks red. The envelope stayed in his pocket through his lectures and his office hours. It had been hard for him to concentrate knowing it was there, knowing its contents. Somehow he'd made it through his day. Now he is finally able to pull it out and look at it. It looks too innocent. It’s just a plain office envelope, now streaked with mud and creased. Yet he knows what’s inside and he wishes he could throw it in the waste basket and pretend this wasn’t happening.

Damn.

“Damn what?”

Charles jerks a little at the question. It’s not Alex or Armando. The voice belongs to a stranger. It’s deep and rumbly and has a very faint accent that Charles can't quite place. Before Charles can turn to see who is trespassing on his alone time, a drink slides in front of him. A highball with ice and amber liquid.

“Whisky,” the man says, moving into view. Charles is still staring at the fingers that linger a bit on the glass, long and slim, then he raises his gaze to the man who they belong to. The stranger smiles a little, then says with a shrug, “I just guessed.”

Charles opens his mouth to tell the man to leave. Then he closes it again, because his uninvited companion is sliding into the other side of the booth, and now that Charles can get a good look at him, he rethinks sending him away so quickly.

Not that it matters. Not that anything is going to happen. Not today of all days, and Charles wonders why this man has to decided to sit down opposite him tonight and not the week before or the week before that.

Charles finds himself gazing into ice blue eyes and he takes in the stranger's broad shoulders, his strong jaw. He imagines mouthing his way up that long neck and he feels a sharp pang of regret.

"You know, normally I'd just ask if you want to fuck," the man says, offering him a mischievous grin. Charles blinks at his straightforwardness. Normally he'd find it refreshing.

“Oh,” Charles says, that one word feeling too laden with everything he has on his mind tonight. Any other night he would have been happy to answer ‘yes’. But not tonight. Not with the envelope in his pocket.

“But you looked kind of like you could use a drink, so I decided to do that instead.”

“I...I could, I do need one, I mean thank you,” Charles manages to stammer, and the worry he’s been trying to push back all day starts to well up again. He looks at the envelope on the table then takes a forefinger and pushes at it, listening to the way the paper slides dryly on the table.

“Something bad in there?” the man asks astutely, glancing down at the envelope, his eyes following the pattern of Charles’ finger.

“I don’t know,” Charles answers, “I mean, I think so but I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“What’s in there? Divorce papers?” the man asks.

"No," Charles laughs, "nothing like that."

"Then what is it?"

Charles blinks a little at his forwardness. He’s a stranger and most strangers wouldn’t dare to ask the contents of an envelope that was clearly bothering someone. But the man does ask and for some reason, Charles wants to tell him.

Charles realizes that part of the reason for his inertia is that he’s been dreading what he suspects. He’s HIV+, and if he’s HIV+, he’s going to have to tell his friends. He’s going to have to tell Raven. They’ll be supportive, but he knows they will also look at him and wonder, even if briefly, how he could be so stupid. Charles wonders that himself. He knows all about condoms. It’s just he hasn’t always used them, for whatever reason. He doesn’t always like them. He doesn’t always have one. Sometimes he’s just had too much to drink. He hates that he cannot have any type of healthy sex life without the fear of contracting a disease that will kill him. He knows all of this and he is dreading having to catalog the reasons for his irresponsiblity to his friends. But this stranger, this man with his easy smile and kind eyes, who decided Charles looked sad enough that needed a drink instead of a fuck, well, Charles wants to tell him.

So he does.

“My HIV results,” Charles says, looking down, “I got tested this morning and I’ve been afraid all day to open them.”

“Oh,” the man says, and for a moment Charles feels like he’s said too much. Not everyone wants to hear the truth. Most people want you to tell them that you’re okay, that life is good, and then they can sit in a bar and drink with you and never have to think about the fact that the reality is that everything feels like its falling apart. “That’s heavy.”

“Yeah,” Charles says. “It is.” He looks at the man sitting across from him. “You know, since I’ve just told you my health history, it might be nice to know your name.”

That easy smile appears again, but this time the amusement doesn’t reach the eyes of Charles’ companion. His eyes remain locked on Charles, brimming with empathy.

“I'm Erik,” the man says.

Charles extends his hand across the table. “Nice to meet you, Erik. I'm Charles,” he says in return. Erik takes his hand and his grip is firm. He shakes it like they are business acquaintances and not like Charles has just confessed his deepest secrets to this stranger.

Charles takes a sip of the whisky that’s still sweating on the table. The alcohol is sharp on his throat and warm in his chest. He and Erik sit in silence for a little while, Charles still staring at the envelope.

“Are you positive?” Charles finally asks Erik. Erik looks at him.

“No,” Erik answers, “I get tested every six months, and I’m quite careful.”

Charles feels the heat of shame creep up his face at Erik’s words. “Clearly I haven’t been careful,” Charles says quietly and he sees Erik flinch at those words. He reaches across the table and takes Charles’ hands in his, giving them a little squeeze that’s meant to be reassuring.

“I’m sorry,” Erik says quickly, “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s...it’s not that simple.”

Charles feels the tears start to well up again. No, it’s not simple. He feels deep shame over being in this predicament, but somehow it feels a little lighter with this stranger gripping his hands in the back of a dimly lit bar. He feels like he might be able to do this, to open the envelope and see what’s inside.

This had all started when Armando had gotten sick. That was the moment Charles knew he had to stop avoiding the test. Armando had been HIV+ when he and Alex started dating, and for the most part it seemed they did okay. They used condoms, Armando took his medication, and they were so happy that sometimes Charles wanted to make awful gagging sounds around them. Then Armando wasn’t doing as well and ended up sick and in the hospital.

It was a medication issue, the doctor had said as Charles and Alex had sat by the hospital bed, Alex holding Armando’s hand and softly stroking his thumb over his knuckles. It seemed that Armando was doing great at living with HIV until he wasn’t, and then things got scary. Charles knew in that moment that he needed to get tested. It wasn’t like he barebacked a lot, but he did. And that put him at risk. If he didn’t get tested, he could get really sick and then it would be him in the hospital. He decided to go to campus health and get a rapid HIV done. That was why he was now talking to a stranger and staring at that damn envelope that had the power to change his future.

“I know I have to do this,” Charles says, looking at Erik. “It’s just...I’m really scared. I’m too young for a chronic disease. I’m a professor. Kids look up at me, but I have done some stupid things too, and….”

“Not stupid,” Erik says gently, “I’ve barely known you for 20 minutes and I can’t imagine you doing stupid things.”

“Barebacking, Erik?” Charles spits out, “going home with random guys, not remembering protection? How is any of that smart?”

“It’s nice to not use a condom,” Erik says, his voice kind, “and anonymous sex can be enjoyable. After all, that’s what I wanted from you, and I am sure it would have been enjoyable. I mean, before…”

“Before you found out I might be HIV+?” Charles bites out, looking away. His stomach clenches. This conversation was going from bad to worse. “Oh god, I’m a pariah.”

“No,” Erik says forcefully, “before I realized that I like talking to you.”

Charles turns back to look at Erik, contemplating his words. Erik likes talking to him. Charles realizes that the feeling is the same. What a funny, chance encounter. Any other time Erik would become just another anonymous fuck. Now, well, he could become a friend.

“I like talking to you too,” Charles says, sounding surprised.

“Tell you what,” Erik says, offering Charles a smile. “Why don’t you just enjoy your night. Your friends will be here soon, right?”

“How did you know?”

“I’ve seen you with them before. I’ve always wanted to talk to you but you always seem to be having such a good time. Then tonight you came early, so I took my chance.”

“Alex and Armando will be here any minute,” Charles says.

“So enjoy your night and we can meet for coffee tomorrow and open the envelope together.”

Charles blinks and he feels relief wash over him.

“You’d do that for me?”

Erik nods. “Yes. I told you, I like you. I think I can help you with this.”

“Okay,” Charles nods.

Just then Alex and Armando appear, arm and arm, Armando waving a hand. Charles waves back and Erik starts to stand. Charles expects him to leave, so he’s surprised when Erik just moves to his side of the booth and slides in next to him.

“Don’t you have a fuck to procure?” Charles asks, glancing at the other man.

“I’ve changed my plans for the night,” Erik says, “I’m going to hang out with my friend.”

Friend. Is that what just happened? Charles smiles at Erik with something akin to gratitude. He watches as Erik picks the folded envelope off the table and hands it to Charles.

“Tomorrow then?” Charles says, taking the envelope and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Tomorrow.” Erik smiles.

Alex and Armando arrive at the table and both of them slide into the booth, as close as always. They also both look at Erik then at Charles with a question in their eyes. Charles often envies how in sync those two are, and he takes a deep breath.

“This is a friend from university,” Charles says, tilting his head towards Erik, “he works there with me. As a janitor.”

Charles winces at the lie. He’s never been particularly good at lying and this one is no better than all of the others. Why did he decide that Erik is a janitor? He watches as Alex and Armando both raise their eyebrow in unison, and their mouths open in surprise. Just then Erik huffs out a little laugh.

“Oh Charles,” Erik says smoothly, “you are always so funny. I’m just taking a class at Columbia and we ran into each other at the book shop. I was buying art supplies. I’m an artist. We just hit it off and I convinced Charles to invite me along to your gathering. I hope I’m not intruding.”

Charles sighs in relief that Erik has so masterfully expanded his lie, and he sees both Alex and Armando’s faces relax.

The rest of the night goes well. Erik is funny, self-deprecating, and Charles is left wondering about fate and how this man happened to walk into his life tonight of all nights. Slowly Charles is able to let go of the tension of the day, the worries around the envelope. His night is full of his friends and laughter. Despite the fact that Charles will not fuck anyone tonight, and he’s not sure if he’ll fuck anyone in a long time once he knows the results in that envelope, it’s one of the best nights he’s had in a long time.

Finally they all get up and stumble out of the bar, everyone slightly buzzed and happy. Alex and Armando both hug Charles, and Alex says he’ll call him, or text him, or email him soon. Charles’ best friends make their way down the sidewalk, leaving Charles and Erik standing on the sidewalk together. The wind is blowing lightly and it has that warm tinge of spring that makes one think of sunnier days and flowers pushing their way up from the ground. Charles takes in a deep breath, savoring the smell of dirt after the rain. He wraps his arms around his shoulders and shivers a little. Then he looks over at Erik.

Erik is already looking at Charles and when their eyes meet, his gaze quickly flicks away, going to stare at the pavement, as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Charles is charmed by this small sign of shyness in someone so confident and he smiles.

“Thank you,” Charles says softly.

“For what?” Erik blinks, his eyes returning to look at Charles.

“For making this night go from one of the worst of my life to one of the best,” Charles says, offering a small, genuine smile. “Oh, and for fixing my awful lie about how we met.”

“It’s not entirely a lie,” Erik says, shrugging. “I am an artist and I’ve actually taken some classes at Columbia.”

“Oh good,” Charles says, “I haven’t entirely morally corrupted you.”

“No,” Erik murmurs. “You haven’t.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and Erik’s eyes are so kind that it almost hurts. Not for the first time and not for the last, Charles is struck by the irony that tonight of all the nights is when he meets someone like Erik, and how things might have gone differently if the universe had arranged their meeting at another time. Once again, he’s grateful.

“So,” Charles finally says. He pulls the envelope from his jacket and waves it a bit. “Coffee tomorrow?”

Erik smiles.

“Yes,” he says, “coffee tomorrow, and then we find out. Together.”

Charles likes the sound of that word on Erik’s tongue. Together. For the first time since leaving the clinic, he doesn’t feel entirely alone. It’s enough to make his breath hitch and cause tears to start to well in his eyes, but he manages to hold them back. There is no use in letting this man see how his kindness has affected Charles. They are strangers after all, only friends for the last few hours.

They exchange phone numbers and Charles promises to text Erik with his choice of coffee shop in the morning. Then, somewhat reluctantly, they part ways, each going to different parts of town.

Charles barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning fitfully until he finally dozes off. When he wakes he’s met with a message from Erik, who must have slept poorly as well. Charles reads it and smiles. It reads, ‘be strong today my friend, EML’. EML must be Erik’s initials, and it occurs to him the man who is texting him and calling him friend is only known to him by his first name. How crazy is this world?

Charles returns the text, thanking Erik for the morning greeting and giving him the address to a nearby Starbucks. If this were something like a date, he would want to meet at his favorite coffee spot, a little independent roaster near the university. It’s not a date and he doesn’t want to be reminded every time he walks in that it’s the place that he confirmed his worst fears. So Starbucks it will be. Large, corporate, faceless Starbucks, the perfect place for an emotional breakdown of epic proportions.

Charles showers, scrubbing down every inch of his pale, freckled skin, leaving some areas a little red. He thinks that he really doesn’t feel any different. Maybe he’s not positive. It’s not like he’d become sick and figured out something was wrong. HIV isn’t like it was in the eighties when you found out you were positive because you were dying. He feels fine. Strong. Healthy. That’s how it works. You are fine until you’re not, and in this day and age, if you’re not fine, you can take pills. You can go to the doctor. There are lots of options.

Still, Charles feels dirty, feels the creep of shame rise up him. The shame is always in the background. If he’d been more careful. If he had cared more about condoms and less about getting off. He stands in the shower, letting the water run over him and sobs as he thinks about how much he wants to go back and do things differently.

After his shower, Charles makes breakfast. It’s simple. Some toast and a cup of tea. It feels like that’s all his stomach can take right now. Then he looks at the clock. An hour before he will meet Erik. An hour before he knows for sure.

Erik is early when Charles walks into the Starbucks. He looks up at Charles and his eyes are weary. He looks no better than Charles feels, and Charles fights back the urge to apologize to Erik for allowing his problems steal his sleep.

Erik stands up when Charles approaches, and it’s an antiquated gesture that leaves a lump in Charles’ throat. He sits back down as Charles does, and looks at him.

“No coffee?” Erik asks, looking down at his own cup.

“Don’t think I could drink it.”

“So should we get this over with?” Erik asks. Charles nods then reaches into his pocket and brings out the envelope. He unfolds it, then grabs one corner and rips. There’s a single piece of paper inside, folded in thirds. Charles takes it and hands it towards Erik.

“You look first,” Charles says, fear catching in his throat.

“Okay,” Erik says, not arguing. He unfolds the paper and scans it, his face remaining impassive. Then folds it back up and hands it to Charles. Charles slowly unfolds it and reads it. It’s what he expected. It’s there in black and white, printed impersonally on plain paper, and irrefutable. Charles is positive.

“Oh god,” Charles gasps, and the feeling is worse than he imagined. “Oh god, oh god.” Charles lets the paper fall to the table and buries his face in his hands. His tears wet his fingers. Erik says nothing. He just sits across from Charles and watches him, as if he knows that Charles needs his silence right now. After what feels like a long time Charles takes his hands off his face and lays them on the table. He stares down at them. They are no longer just his hands, they are the hands of someone who is HIV positive. Charles doesn't know if he will ever be able to look at his body again without seeing that it's sick.

Erik reaches across the table and takes one of Charles' hands in his. He cradles it gently in his larger hand and now Charles can see there are tears in those pale blue eyes as well. Erik is crying for him. Somehow his empathy makes everything hurt worse because Charles feels he doesn't deserve it.

“You know, I would fuck you right now if it would help this feel better,” Erik says softly, and he brings up his free hand to Charles' face, using a finger to wipe a tear from the corner of Charles’ eye. “I would like to.”

Charles feels his cock tingle at Erik's offer, and he licks his lips. Suddenly Erik's offer sounds good, to just let go and let all this worry slip away, just for a little while.

“Really?” Charles gasps, “even when you know for sure now, you’d really still want to do that?”

“I told you that I’m careful,” Erik says, “I use condoms, and you look like you might need it right now.”

Charles really does, but instead he shakes his head.

"No, Erik." Charles closes his eyes as he thinks about all the people he may have exposed, and how if he'd known he could have done exactly as Erik was offering. But he didn't and the idea of taking what Erik is offering, of indulging in something just for himself, feels wrong. "I don't know if I'm ever going to have sex again," Charles moans.

"You will," Erik says reassuringly. "This isn't a death sentence. Not like it was a long time ago. You can be positive and be healthy and have sex."

Charles looks at Erik for a long time then he sighs heavily. For some reason he trusts this man, who less than twenty four hours ago was a total stranger.

"Okay," Charles says, still feeling shaky but somehow better. "But I think I need a break from sex and dating. Just for a little while."

Charles thinks he sees a quick look of disappointment flicker through Erik's eyes, then he smiles that same kindly smile and says "sounds like a plan."

"So, what next?" Erik asks, playing with his coffee cup a bit.

"The clinic," Charles says, "I need to start treatment, right?"

"A good next step," Erik murmurs. "Do you want me to come with you?"

Charles feels relief course through him. "Yes!" he says a little over enthusiastically. "Then Friday I'll tell Alex, Armando and Raven."

"Raven?" Erik asks.

"My sister," Charles explains with a sigh. Raven will be upset. They are already the only family each other has, and no matter how many times Charles tells himself that logically this is something he can live with, Raven won’t see it that way. He doesn’t entirely see it that way either.

Erik’s fingers are again playing with the coffee cup. Charles glances at them and swallows, again wishing things were different. Erik’s hands are beautiful. He should refuse Erik’s offer to go with him to the clinic, should protest that this man, who is basically a stranger to him, has done enough already. Instead he says,

“I mean, please come to the clinic, but only if that’s okay with you. I was going to try to get in tomorrow, and I know you have a life outside hand-holding a stranger through a health crisis, but it would be better if I didn’t have to go alone.”

“I’m not busy,” Erik says. “I can be there.”

“Okay,” Charles says succinctly.

“You talk a lot,” Erik observes, his mouth quirking a bit at the edges, as if he finds Charles amusing. Charles feels a blush climb his cheeks. Is Erik flirting with him? After everything, is he actually flirting? Charles shifts in his seat. The last thing he needs is a relationship right now, so he ignores the fact that it appears that Erik is trifling with him a bit.

They part ways and Charles calls the clinic where Armando goes as he walks. The woman on the phone is pleasant and before long he has an appointment for the next day at 3:00 pm. He texts the information to Erik and tells him he’ll meet him at the clinic at 2:45. This is why Charles is entirely surprised when Erik shows up outside his lecture the next day with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“I found your lecture schedule online,” Erik shrugs, as way of explanation for his slightly stalker tendencies. “Figured we could share a cab. It’s cheaper that way.”

“Cheaper,” Charles says. “Really.” For the first time in days a smile breaks across his face. He will not point out that it’s not cheaper if you factor in how much it cost Erik to even get to Columbia.

“Plus,” Erik continues, “I thought we should actually meet on campus since that’s the lie we’ve told your friends.”

Charles winces at that one. He’s not even sure why he doesn’t want Alex and Armando to know that Erik is a pick-up gone wrong, or what could more accurately be described as a pick-up gone strange. He takes one of the cups of coffee and sniffs at it. It smells sweet.

“Mocha with orange peel,” Erik says. Charles takes a drink. It’s good.

“My new favorite,” he tells Erik, smiling again. “Let’s go.”

The ride to the clinic isn’t a long one, and the appointment itself is much less exciting than Charles had expected. They take a health history, weigh him, take his blood pressure, take some blood from his arm. Erik sits in the small room with him the entire time. Finally the doctor comes in. He puts out his hand and shakes Charles’ first, then Erik’s.

“And you are…?” the doctor, who turns out to be one Dr. Hank McCoy, an infectious disease specialist who works specifically with HIV+ patients, says.

“A friend,” Erik says quickly, then appears to realize that might not be quite what Dr. McCoy is asking, “I’m uh, Erik. A friend.”

“Good to have support during times like these,” Dr. McCoy says. “A new diagnosis can feel overwhelming.”

No shit, Charles thinks, his eyes starting to well up with tears. Everything feels overwhelming right now.

In the end Dr. McCoy goes over the medications Charles will take, gives him some information on resources in the community, tells him his viral load looks good right now and sends Charles on his way with a handful of prescriptions.

“It’s not a death sentence like it used to be,” Dr. McCoy says kindly, “you can live a long, healthy life if you take your meds and take care of yourself.”

Charles nods, but he still can’t shut up that voice in the back of his mind that says this is something that is going to change everything, and from now on he will have to disclose his status to partners. At the moment it feels better to just decide there will be no partners, at least for the time being.

They leave the clinic and Erik tells Charles that he has some time, if he wants to do something. Charles shakes his head. As much as he wants to spend more time with Erik, he can’t. He has papers to grade and office hours, and now he has to pick up his new medications at the pharmacy.

“But maybe I’ll see you on another Friday night.”

“Yeah,” Erik responds, nodding his head slightly and looking mildly disappointed. “Friday night.”

Charles does see Erik on another Friday night. The next Friday night, when Charles finds himself scrambling to scoot over as Erik folds his long body into the seat next to him. Charles has arrived early again, wanting a few minutes alone before he has to tell his friends his news. Now Erik is sitting next to him, grinning in a manner that’s entirely distracting.

“I thought I could offer moral support.”

Charles should tell the other man that he’s done enough. He’s gone way above and beyond when it comes to their friendship of one whole week. He’s done more than people who have been his friends for years. Charles also wants Erik there. The idea of having him by his side as he tells Alex and Armando the hardest thing he’s ever had to tell them makes his heart feel just a bit lighter. So instead he asks him about his week and they fall into the casual banter that Charles has found so easy to do with Erik. Soon Alex and Armando arrive and the four of them are chatting away, sipping at their drinks and having a generally good time when Charles clears his throat and everyone’s eyes go to him. He feels Erik’s hand come to rest on his thigh under the table, warm and reassuring, and Charles takes a deep breath then plunges in.

“I got tested,” Charles says.

“Finally,” Alex sighs.

“And?” Armando asks, although Charles can tell from the look on his face that he already knows.

“I’m positive,” Charles says.

The whole table is quiet for a long minute, then Alex lets out a sigh. “Oh Charles,” he says, sounding disappointed. Charles winces a little at what he’d already expected would be Alex’s reaction.

“I’ve gone to the clinic already,” Charles says quickly, feeling like he needs to prove to them that he’s responsible, “and I’ve started meds. I’ve done something thinking about things I need to change because of this. I mean, I’m doing okay.”

At the word ‘okay’ Charles glances over at Erik and offers him a small smile. He would be doing a lot worse if Erik hadn’t dropped into his life at the worst time possible but in the best way Charles could ever imagine. His hand is still heavy and warm on Charles’ thigh, anchoring him as Armando and Alex launch into a more questions. Charles answers each one with candor. He doesn’t want to hide anything from his friends.

At the end of the night, after Alex and Armando have taken to the dance floor, wrapped up in each other, then headed home, once again Charles and Erik are left alone.

“Thank you,” Charles says, his fingers playing with his second drink of the night. Erik smiles at him warmly. “You’ve done more than enough for a total stranger.”

“But just enough for a friend, maybe?” Erik answers with yet another of his quick smiles.

“Yeah,” Charles says, “a friend. I just feel bad I’ve interrupted your night, that you could be getting laid and instead you’re sitting here listening to me mope and carry on.”

“I’ll manage not getting laid,” Erik murmurs, almost too intimately, and it makes Charles wonder what he sounds like in the bedroom, sleepy and blissed out. Charles brushes that thought away. Then Erik adds, “I have a very talented right hand.”

Charles blushes a bit and this causes Erik to chuckle, a deep, rumbling sound that makes Charles feel warm all over. God, none of this is fair. None of it.

They finish their drinks and fall into the same pattern from the week before, standing on the sidewalk together, needing to say goodbye but neither of them wanting to. Then Charles leans forward and entirely on a whim pulls Erik into a hug, wrapping his arms around the other man’s slim waist, burying his face in his coat and holding him tightly. Erik jerks in surprise but then his arms come up and wrap around Charles.

“Thank you,” Charles says against Erik’s chest. “Thank you so much. I know I can’t stop saying it but, I just...thank you.”

“Anything for you, Charles,” Erik says, and while Charles just thinks Erik is being nice, nothing about him says he doesn’t mean those words. Charles blinks back the tears in his eyes after a very emotional day, then lets Erik go and stands back a little. Erik stares down at him then brings one of his large hands up and swipes away a tear from the corner of Charles’ eye.

“Sleep well tonight, my friend,” Erik says softly. Charles nods then turns to walk down the street as Erik hails a cab and they head their separate ways.

They fall into a pattern. Actually, Charles keeps his same pattern except for getting laid on Friday nights. In place of that, he regularly scoots over to make room for Erik, who has become a member of their little gang. He insinuates himself with an ease and confidence that Charles suspects Erik carries with him everywhere he goes. He joins Alex and Armando in teasing Charles, laughs at Armando’s jokes and agrees with Alex when his solemn nature insists the joking and laughter cease and the table actually focus on something important, like the ongoing conflict in the middle east. It doesn’t take long for Erik to feel like he’s been part of Charles’ friends forever.

The pattern extends to the end of the evening. Every night Charles and Erik leave the bar together, linger on the sidewalk, and then reluctantly say ‘goodbye’ to each other. Eventually Charles reveals that he lives around the corner, and Erik offers to walk him home. Their lingering goodbye shifts from outside the bar to outside Charles’ walkup, but Charles never asks Erik up, and Erik never indicates that’s what he wants.

Weeks go by, then months, and Erik starts to slowly leak into other areas of Charles’ life. He does end up in Charles’ apartment after the conversation on Friday night reveals that they share a love of chess. Charles invites Erik over and they spend a random Saturday in Charles’ apartment, drinking beer and attempting to best each other at the game. Charles goes to one of Erik’s art openings and somehow ignores the way he feels like the only person in the room when Erik drops everything he’s doing and rushes to his side, greeting him with a quick buss on the cheek and a friendly hug around the shoulder. They join Alex and Armando at their place for dinner, talking and bumping shoulders with each other the entire evening, and Charles ignores the pointed looks Alex gives him. Finally Alex manages to trap him in the kitchen and there is no escape.

“He likes you,” Alex says, twirling his glass of wine as he leans on the counter. Charles frowns.

“Who?”

“Are you an idiot?” Alex asks, smirking a little, “Erik. He likes you.”

“Of course,” Charles says, “we’re friends.”

“I guess you are an idiot,” Alex says, taking a drink from his glass.

“I...I’m not dating anyone right now,” Charles stutters, “so it doesn’t really matter if he likes me or not.”

“You know that being positive doesn’t mean you have to give up relationships and sex,” Alex says succinctly, “I mean, look at me and Armando. It’s been almost five years, we’re careful, I always test negative.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, wiping his hand on a towel then turning to look at Alex. “The logical part of me says I shouldn’t put my life on hold, but I just can’t...I really can’t Alex. Not now.”

“He’s waiting for you, you know,” Alex says, “but I don’t know if he’ll wait forever, Charles.”

Armando pokes his head into the kitchen at this moment and Charles watches Alex’s face light up. He feels an ache in his chest, a longing for what his friends have, and he knows that it could be his. There’s no reason except he won’t let it be a reality. Because he’s still angry at himself for not being careful. Because if no one will punish him, he’ll do it to himself. He feels like he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s HIV positive and until he can feel more solid with himself, he shouldn’t be with anyone else.

Still, Alex’s words echo in his head.

_I don’t know if he’ll wait forever._

Like most things in life, everything changes when you least expect it. For Charles it comes in the form of an empty booth seat. At first he thinks that Erik must have had something planned that is keeping him away that night, and he most likely told Charles during one of their long phone chats that most often happen late at night, but Charles has entirely forgotten what it might be. It’s only Alex’s pointed nod towards the bar that makes Charles realize otherwise. Erik is at the bar, he’s just not at their booth. He’s leaning against the highly polished wood of the bar, one hand on the counter, the other tucked into his pocket, and he is deeply engrossed in conversation with another man. The other man is almost as tall and broad as Erik, with strong shoulders and a thick neck, and from across the room Charles can see they make a nice couple. Erik is nodding and smiling, leaning in the same way he does with Charles. The whole scene makes Charles hurt for some reason and he quickly looks away.

Erik does join them, sliding next to Charles, putting his arm around Charles’ shoulder, and Charles can’t help but feel apologetic for the fact that he’s not as broad and solid at the man at the bar.

“Who is your friend?” Alex asks, wagging his eyebrow suggestively, and Charles wants to throw something at his best friend.

Erik doesn’t respond immediately because he’s occupied with trying to get the attention of one of the waitstaff. He turns back to Alex and blinks, then says, “what?”

“Your friend at the bar. The tall and handsome one.”

Charles wants to kick Alex under the table. He knows exactly what he’s doing and he refusing to stop.

“Oh,” Erik says almost absently, “James. He and I go way back. He’s in town for a bit and was saying hi.”

Charles wants to linger a bit longer on James, not entirely thrilled with the explanation he’s been given. Going way back sounds a lot like ‘we used to fuck and now he’s back in town, so we’ll fuck again.’ Armando launches into a funny story about work and Erik looks over at Charles and smiles. Charles feels whatever he feels about James slipping away with that smile. The rest of the night goes as it always does, including Erik walking Charles to his apartment and their usual warm goodbye.

Then Erik doesn’t call. He texts, says he’s busy in the studio and will try to call the next day, but he doesn’t call the next day either. Charles fights down the feeling he has that this has everything to do with James being back in town. Friday rolls around again, and Charles realizes how much he’s grown accustomed to Erik’s phone calls and middle-of-the-week pizza and chess at his apartment, because it’s been a whole seven days since he last saw Erik and he’s feeling a bit melancholy about the whole thing. He walks into the bar to again be confronted with the empty booth seat. Erik is there, but he’s leaning on the bar, just like last week, and next to him is James. Charles pauses and watches them, watches the way James’ head tilts towards Erik, the way his hand comes up to smooth the edge of Erik’s brown leather jacket, his fingers playing with the zip. Charles knows flirting. He’s quite good at it himself, and James is flirting. Erik smiles back, that same warm smile that Charles had come to think of something just for him, and it’s in that moment he realizes that he’s been such a fool.

Erik sees Charles and a smile engulfs his face. He leans towards James and says something, resulting in James looking at Charles and nodding his head. Then Erik picks his drink up from the bar and walks towards their booth, stopping to stand on the edge of it, waiting for Charles. Charles slides in and when Erik reaches his arm to pull Charles to his side for a friendly hug, Charles flinches away. Erik drops his arm to his side and looks at Charles quizzically.

“Charles?” Erik asks slowly. Charles glances at Erik then looks away.

“Are you fucking him?” Charles asks, his tone biting, and he know he has no right, but he still asks the question. Erik startles a little then his brow knits.

“Would it matter if I was?” Erik answers, question for a question. Charles feels a bit taken aback.

“No,” he says, honestly. He has no claim. He has no right. Erik would have fucked him when they first met and Charles said ‘no’. Now they are friends, and friends don’t have the right to be this jealous. So does it matter? Not a bit. Except it does. The idea of Erik with James or anyone else crawls under Charles’ skin and stays there, and he feels endlessly irritable about James. He hates James. He wants to punch James.

The rest of the evening is fraught with tension, to the point that Alex follows Charles to the bathroom at some point and asks him what’s going on with him and Erik. Did they sleep together or something? Charles huffs out a little laugh. No, sex hasn’t ruined this friendship, but it does feel like it’s unraveling slowly and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Charles decides he’s ready to date. It’s Tuesday when he makes the decision, and he tells himself it has nothing to do with Erik or James, or Erik fucking James, or Erik asking why it would matter if that were the case. Nothing at all. He’s just ready.

There’s a guy he met recently. He’s nice enough. His name is Scott and he has the thoroughly boring career of investment banker, unlike being a renegade metal bending artist. He and Charles met in line at the coffee shop near the university, not the Starbucks where he had met Erik, but his favorite place. They had struck up a conversation and things had flowed nicely. Scott seems perfectly nice and Charles thinks he might be a nice starting point to jump back into dating. He’s not sure if he’s going to go looking for an anonymous fuck like he used to, but he does know that it would be nice to sit across from someone on a Saturday night and talk about interesting stuff and then maybe a kiss goodnight, and after a few dates, sex, and see where things go from there. Scott might be the perfect candidate for this fantasy Charles harbors.

The day after Charles decides he’s going to ask Scott out, he ends up on the phone with Erik, talking about the latest episode of their favorite HBO show and rattling on about their days. Erik is in the middle of telling him about a big commission he’s starting to work on when Charles interrupts him.

“Do you remember telling me you stay safe? You know, protect yourself from HIV?”

Erik is silent for a long while, then when he speaks he sounds a bit strangled.

“Charles, do you mean...are you saying you want to….”

“Yes,” Charles says, cutting Erik off. “I want to...I want to start dating again, and I’m thinking of asking someone out.”

Another long silence, and Charles wishes he could see Erik’s face.

“Well,” Erik’s voice crackles, and this time it sounds more like Erik. Even, and steady. “There are condoms, of course. There’s also PEP and PrEP. You’d want to wear condoms but if for some reason you don’t, your date can either PrEP ahead of time or PEP afterwards. A pill, you take it regularly, not too many side effects. If you want to bareback, it’s a good idea to have the conversation and be ready.”

“Okay,” Charles says, not wanting to think about the fact that he’s going to have to have this conversation with Scott if they go out, and they can’t just get carried away and fuck. This is his life now and he’s not entirely sure he likes it.

“I’m sure Dr. McCoy can help your date get what he needs, or really any public health clinic.”

“And you’ve done this?” Charles says, feeling a little small and vulnerable about this whole conversation.

“I have,” Erik says, “both PEP and PrEP. I took PEP once when I got a little drunk and ended waking up in some stranger’s apartment who wouldn’t disclose his status to me. I took PrEP for a while when I was tired of worrying about condoms. And then when I was with….”

Erik stops speaking and they are both silent on the phone. Charles feels like they are straying into strange territory, but he still pushes on. “When you were with?”

“When I was with James. He’s positive.”

James. Charles feels that strange clench in his stomach again.

“And are you taking it now?” Charles asks. Erik is silent for another long moment, and Charles knows he’s not going to like what comes next.

“Yes,” Erik says, “I’m taking it now.”

“Okay,” Charles says, trying to quell the unease in his chest. “I don’t need to know any more. Your business is your business.”

“Charles,” Erik says, “I can explain.”

“No,” Charles says, “you’re my friend. It’s none of my business who you’re fucking.”

“Charles,” Erik says again.

“So, let’s move on to other important things, like that last episode. It killed me,” Charles says, trying to keep his voice light. He needs to move on otherwise he might end up sobbing with Erik on the phone and that would be embarrassing.

Two things happen at the same time.

Scott says ‘yes’. Charles can’t help but be thrilled at his answer, and he feels like he walking on air the entire time. They go out and Charles tells him that he’s HIV positive, and Scott doesn’t even blink. They drink coffee and talk and overall it’s very nice. At the end of the night Charles dares to move close to Scott and press his lips to the other man’s, and it all ends in a perfectly acceptable goodnight kiss.

The second thing is that Erik stops coming on Friday nights. The first Friday this happens Charles looks around the bar, actually hoping to see James, but there is no James and no Erik. Twenty minutes later everyone gets a text telling them that Erik is stuck in the studio. It’s that big commission and Charles tells himself it’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, except it doesn’t feel that way. It feels personal.

After the third Friday with Erik absent, Alex finally asks Charles whether or not he and Erik had a fight.

“No,” Charles stutters, “I mean, why would we have a fight?”

Alex makes a sound under his breath and looks frustrated.

“Look,” Alex says, “I didn’t like the guy at first, but he’s become a friend, and if you can’t see what’s going on, then you must be awfully blind. I know Scott’s a nice guy…”

“Scott!” Charles says abruptly, “what does this have to do with Scott?”

Alex rolls his eyes.

“Seriously Charles?” Alex spits out, “You don’t see it? Not at all?”

“See what?”

At this point Alex gets up from their table and stalks angrily across the bar then busies himself at the juke box, pretending to pick out some music. Charles stares after him, feeling confused and a little sick to his stomach. He turns back to Armando, who is looking at him with sympathetic eyes.

“Charles, love,” Armando says gently, “he’s in love with you.”

“Alex?” Charles asks, feeling even more confused. This causes Armando to laugh.

“Oh no, Alex is in love with me,” Armando says kindly, as if what Charles is saying is the funniest, cutest thing ever. “Erik. Erik is in love with you.”

Charles’ heart sinks like a stone. Armando’s words make everything come into focus with such clarity is almost hurts. He’s right. Erik is in love with him. And he’s in love with Erik. He’s been pushing him away, and they’ve become friends, but Charles is in _love_ with him. That’s why he hates the idea of him with James. That’s why his day is incomplete without a text or phone call from Erik. That’s why he wakes up in the middle of the night with a smile on his lips thinking about something funny Erik said over chess and pizza. That’s why despite having perfectly nice dates with Scott the last couple weeks, Charles has felt off kilter. Erik. He’s in love with Erik, and Erik has walked away, and Charles is a giant idiot.

“I’m a giant idiot,” Charles says out loud just as Alex returns to the table.

“How did you get him to see it?” Alex asks Armando.

“I just told him the truth.”

The truth. Charles aches with it.

“I...I have to go,” Charles says, abruptly standing up. Alex and Armando look at him.

“Yes,” Alex says, “you do.”

There’s a light drizzle coming down when Charles steps outside. He might normally put up his umbrella or pull up the collar of his coat, but instead he just blinks as he looks up and down the street for a taxi. By the time he manages to flag one, his hair is significantly damp and he pushes a tendril off his forehead. He gives the driver the address to Erik’s studio.

He’s been there once and he remembers standing in awe of Erik’s art; giant, towering, twisted works of metal that Erik had almost sheepishly explained. He should have kissed him then. He should have leaned forward and touched his lips to Erik’s and kissed him instead of patiently listening to each explanation and gazing in wonder at his friend who was so talented.

There are actually hundreds of times Charles should have kissed Erik. He can see them all now. He plays them in his head over and over again. Walking down the street together on a Friday night. Outside his apartment when he just didn’t want Erik to go. In celebration of Erik check-mating him. Because he remembered his favorite kind of pizza. Mostly because he saw how sad a total stranger was and decided to listen instead of passing on by. Maybe he should have kissed him then.

Charles squeezes his eyes shut and rests his head back on the seat of the cab. So many missed opportunities. And now Erik was probably with James and Charles was probably too late.

When Charles finally finds himself outside Erik’s studio door he pauses for a moment, panting because he’d run all the way up the stairs, and he just stands staring at the bare metal door with the number 6 bolted to the outside and a business card that is taped below that reads _Erik M. Lehnsherr, Metal Artist_. The lights inside are dark, and maybe Charles is wrong. Maybe Erik is out with James, having a nice dinner, followed by sex, and he doesn’t care about Charles one bit. Maybe Alex and Armando are wrong, and Erik is just done being his friend. Maybe….

Charles takes in a deep, shaking breath as his heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest. He can’t think of all the worst-case scenarios. He’s been living with worst-case scenarios since he got his diagnosis and he can’t do that anymore. Erik has to be here. Erik has to be in love with him. Because Charles is so desperately in love with Erik he can’t think straight, and he can finally see that now.

He lifts his hand and raps on the door. Once. Twice. Harder. A third time.

“Erik!” Charles calls. Still no answer. Charles’ heart starts to sink. Then he sees through the window over the door that a light flicks on. A light. Erik is home. Charles hears rustling from the other side of the door, then Erik is standing before him, wearing pajama bottoms, his chest bare, and blinking in the light. His hair is sticking up every which way and looks like he’s been sleeping. He looks completely and utterly delicious and it’s all Charles can do to keep himself from throwing himself into Erik's arms, running his hands over his bare chest frantically, nuzzling his nose into the crook of his neck, breathing in the way he smells.

“I’m sorry,” Charles stutters as he takes in Erik’s appearance, and for the first time it occurs to him that Erik might not be alone. It’s not that late and considering Erik’s state of undress, there’s a good chance there’s someone else in his bed. Charles feels the heat of a blush rise up his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to bother you guys.”

“You guys?” Erik says, still sounding sleepy and confused, “there’s no one else here. I just fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Charles says, “no James?”

“James?” Erik says, rubbing at one of his eyes and sounding thoroughly confused, “why would James be here? He went back to Paris a week ago.”

“So you’re alone?” Charles asks, trying to ignore the tendril of hope curling in his belly.

“Yes,” Erik says, sounding a bit more awake. Charles swallows. Suddenly he feels nervous and all he wants to do is tell Erik it’s all been a mistake and turn and walk away. He doesn’t.

“Can I come in?” Charles asks. He’s rewarded with a smile.

“Of course,” Erik says. “You’re soaking wet, and well, it’s nice to see you.”

Erik’s words are warm and there’s a glint in his eye, and how could Charles have not seen this before? It all seems so obvious now, but still he can’t find the words he came to say. Charles follows Erik into the studio, hands him his wet coat then takes the towel that’s handed to him in exchange. Erik watches him with careful eyes as he dries his hair, rubbing it vigorously then handing the towel back.

“Shouldn’t you be at the bar?” Erik asks.

“Shouldn’t you?” Charles counters. “You’ve stopped coming.”

Erik looks away, gazing out one of the floor-to-ceiling industrial windows that line his studio. He blinks and Charles thinks that he might see those pale blue eyes start to glass up with tears, that jaw tighten a little. Then Erik turns back to Charles and gives him one of his easy smiles, the kind that always make Charles feel better.

“This commission is killing me,” Erik says matter-of-factly. “I should have more time soon. How’s Scott?”

“Scott?” Charles says stupidly, searching his brain for the significance of that name. When he finally lights on it he realizes that no matter how nice Scott is, he’s actually been entirely forgotten. “He’s um, okay.”

Erik gets an unreadable look on his face at Charles’ answer.

“Do you want a beer?” Erik asks suddenly, as if he’s been entirely remiss in being a bad host and should offer Charles something. No, Charles doesn’t want a beer. He wants something entirely different. Erik turns to walk towards the fridge.

“Erik?” Charles says, and as much as he wants to sound normal, confident, Erik’s name comes out strangled.

“Yes?” Erik says as he turns back to face Charles, his face suddenly serious, and the tone of the room shifts incrementally into something more somber. Both men stand staring at each other, their hands hanging by their sides, their eyes locked. Charles knows what he wants to say but the words are stuck in his throat as he stares at Erik. The air is thrumming with tension.

“Are you in love with me?” Charles finally manages rasp out.

There is another long pause and neither of them move and Charles feels his fingers clench and unclench. He can hear the noise of the city through the thin window panes, the rush of cars outside, the splash of puddles, an occasional shout traveling up the canyon of the buildings.

“Yes,” Erik says softly, “I’m in love with you.”

Charles feels a surge of emotion so intense it hurts and he closes his eyes. He keeps them shut as he hears Erik step towards him slowly. One step. Another step. Until he can hear Erik breathing, feel the heat of his body. He feels a touch on his cheek, a feather light slide of fingers.

“I always have been,” Erik says softly, “from the moment I saw you.”

Charles opens his eyes. Their blue eyes meet each other. Erik is so close.

“And James?” Charles asks. Erik’s eyes widen in surprise.

“James is a friend,” Erik says softly. “He and I were involved a long time ago and he wanted to pick back up just for his visit and I told him no. I told him I had something I didn’t want to ruin.”

 _Something I didn't want to ruin._ Charles blinks.

“And the medication?" Charles says, "I thought you were taking it for him, so you could…”

“The PrEP?” Erik asks, sounding surprised, “I went on it right after I met you. Just in case, because I didn’t want anything to stand in the way. It was for you, Charles.”

Charles feels his breath hitch and he closes his eyes again. Erik knew his status, knew he was HIV+ and instead of walking away, he took precautions, and then when Charles decided there would be no dating and no sex, he waited.

“I’m an idiot,” Charles says, his eyes still closed, and he feels Erik’s thumb run along his bottom lip, sending a shiver down Charles spine.

“Do you love me Charles?” Erik asks. “Is that what you came to tell me, all bedraggled, looking like a drowned rat and so adorable it almost hurts to look at you?”

“Yes,” Charles whispers, opening his eyes to find Erik is even closer than before. Erik’s hand goes to Charles’ shoulder, running down it with his palm.

“And Scott?” Erik asks, finding Charles’ hand and taking it in his, his fingers stroking the soft inner skin of Charles’ wrist. Another of those deep shudders run through him.

“Scott who?” Charles sighs, drifting forward a little, wanting...wanting….

“Oh Charles,” Erik says, and the way he says Charles’ name makes Charles hurt, so full of pain and love and everything in between. “I’ve been dreaming of this, and when you started seeing Scott, when you asked me about how you could have sex with him and stay safe, I thought I might die. I thought you saw me as nothing more than a friend and you and Scott would hit it off, because who wouldn’t want _you_ , and you’d get married, and I’d just be left with a broken heart.”

“No,” Charles says softly, “I only dated Scott because I thought you were seeing James.”

“Oh Charles,” Erik says again, and now he takes Charles in his arms, crushing him to his chest, burying his face in his damp hair, his chest jerking with sobs.

“Erik?” Charles says against Erik’s shoulder.

“Yes?” Erik’s voice is muffled in his hair.

“Would you kiss me already?” Charles asks. “Please. And then I need you to fuck me. Because I haven’t gotten laid in months and I...I need this. From you. I need it from you.”

“Yes,” Erik says, pulling back and looking down into Charles face. “And Charles?”

“Yes?”

“If you’re an idiot, you’re my idiot. No one else’s.”

With those words Erik’s face descends towards Charles and their lips touch, a soft, tentative press. Charles slides his hands up Erik’s chest, winds his arms around Erik’s neck, then curls his fingers in Erik’s hair, pulling him closer as he opens his mouth and deepens the kiss. Their tongues slide up against each other, velvet smooth, and a kiss that should be desperate is slow and languorous as they explore each others mouths. Charles keeps his hands around Erik’s neck and Erik’s hands go to tug on the back of Charles’ shirt, ruching it up, fingertips finding bare skin and they start to draw small, languid circles across his back that make Charles shiver.

They kiss and kiss, Charles’ shirt pushed up, Erik pressed against Charles, until something inside both of them snaps and suddenly they are tearing off each other’s clothes as if their lives depend on being able to feel each other’s bare skin. Then they are pressed against each other, fully naked, chest to chest, Erik’s half-hard cock thick against Charles’ belly, and they are kissing each other again, as if the time it took to take off their clothes was just too much time for their lips to be apart. They end up tumbling onto Erik’s industrial framed bed, which is surprisingly comfortable. Charles spreads his legs apart to take Erik between them, Erik settles his weight carefully down onto Charles, pressing him into the mattress. Erik holds himself above Charles, and Charles pushes himself up to latch his mouth onto one of Erik’s nipples, biting hard enough at the pebble to make Erik yelp then soothing over it with his tongue in apology.

“Mein gott, Charles,” Erik gasps, “you are so...you are everything I’d ever imagined.”

They don’t take much time with each other. This isn’t a moment of exploration. There will be other nights for that, to find all the nooks and crannies that drive each other wild, to run fingers over sensitive skin. This moment is for catharsis, their need colliding in a way that makes both of them feel like they might explode, and all Charles can do is whisper to Erik how much he needs him. Needs him inside him right now.

“Condom?” Charles gasps when Erik moves from him to root around in the drawer of the nightstand for some lube. Erik stops what he’s doing and looks back at Charles.

“We don’t have to,” Erik says. “I’m safe. I’m clean. No syphilis. No gonorrhea. I got tested again shortly after I met you. You know, just in case, and I haven’t been with anyone since. And I’m on PrEP.”

Charles is lying on the bed, panting, but he still manages a smile at this sort of pillow talk. He thinks about what Erik is saying. They could just do this. He could spread his legs and Erik could plunge into him with that hard, leaking cock and he could feel everything, feel Erik’s cum leak out of him when they were done, just as it should be. No fear. It sounds so good that Charles bites his lip and another wave of arousal courses through him. But the fear is still there, and what if it’s this one time that makes Erik sick? What if he hurts this man who he loves so much?

“No,” Charles says, “condom. But not every time. Just until I feel more comfortable. This is all new for me.”

“Okay,” Erik says, moving back to the bed and kneeling between Charles’ spread thighs. He squirts lube into his hand and Charles watches as he rolls the condom onto his cock then slicks the whole thing up with lube. It’s a beautiful sight, watching this man touch himself, watching his eyes flutter shut at the sensation. Charles puts out his hand and without question Erik gives him a squirt of lube in his palm. Then Charles puts his slicked up hand on his own cock and starts to work it.

“Yes, my love,” Erik hisses, settling himself on top of Charles, and Charles pulls up his legs as far as he can go. Erik reaches down and positions his cock at Charles’ anus, gently brushing it up against the tight ring of muscles there, causing Charles to buck up slightly, then with one long, strong push, Erik pushes past the tight ring of muscle and buries himself deep in Charles, balls pressed up against Charles' ass. Charles clenches his teeth at the initial burn which quickly subsides into something else really good. They stay still, Erik holding himself above Charles, shaking with exertion, Charles bracing himself on the bed, his hand just holding his cock.

“Fuck me,” Charles whispers hoarsely, giving Erik permission to move, and with that Erik’s hips snap forward and Charles’ hips undulate to meet his thrust.

Erik isn’t gentle. They’ve both waited too long for this to be anything but fast and hard, and it doesn’t take much before Erik’s pace picks up, and he drives into Charles like a piston. Charles keeps working his own cock, and he mutters encouragements to Erik.

“Come on.”

“That’s it.”

“So good.”

Finally Erik’s pace starts to become uneven and more out of control and he clenches his teeth and manages to mutter “I’m going to come” just before he’s jerking against Charles, hands grabbing sweat-slippery skin. Charles follows soon after spurting hot and sticky between them, and they end up with Erik collapsed against Charles, pressing him into the mattress, his face by Charles ear, whispering over and over again.

_I love you._

\--

Charles and Erik show up late at the bar the next Friday. Mostly because Erik had been over at Charles’ apartment and decided to distract Charles with a poorly timed blow job, making them late. As they walk into the bar, Charles reaches over for Erik’s hand and takes it in his. He glances at the other man, who smiles back. Then, hand in hand, they walk towards their table, where Alex and Armando are sitting. When they see Charles and Erik walk up hand in hand, Alex’s eyes grow wide and Armando lets out a loud whoop.

“I knew it,” Armando crows. “I just knew you two would figure it out.”

Charles looks over at Erik. Yes, they’ve figured it out, and for the first time he doesn’t wonder why he had to meet Erik Lehnsherr the same day he got those awful test results. Instead he thanks the universe for its perfect timing.

~fin~


End file.
